


The Dress

by Jellyfiggles



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: 1930s Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Transgender Cuphead, Transphobia, minor self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfiggles/pseuds/Jellyfiggles
Summary: Mugman knows Cuphead's a boy, it's just a pity no one else does.





	The Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Warning this is a vent fic. The emotions expressed are very much my own and some elements are based off my own life. Please be wary when reading if the content might upset you.

Cuphead was crying, with those awful sobs that shook his whole body and his face all red and snotty. There was still blood smeared from his nostril to under his left eye. Mugman was sure his puffy eye would darken to black later. He fiddled with his shirt and scuffed his shoes nervously as Elder Kettle scolded his brother.

“Now young lady I’ve just about had it up to here with you! You cannot go gallivanting around and roughhousing, that’s just not proper! Just look what you’d done to your dress!” Elder Kettle gestured angrily at the front of Cuphead’s frock; where the lace collar, the ribbon and pale pink cotton were decorated crimson with blood splotches.

Mugman made to speak, his mouth opening and one hand reaching out but he couldn’t find the words. Cuphead had been defending himself. They’d been playing down by the creek, sailing boats they’d made from sticks and leaves and been having a jolly old time. And then the group of older boys crept up on them and they’d tried to tug up Cuphead’s skirt, laughing and taunting all the while.

And Cuphead had yelled at them, socking the leader good and proper right in the kisser. He’d reeled back, clutching his face and cursing up a storm. And Cuphead had shoved his skirt down roughly, lip twisted into a snarl. 

“Yer lucky I ain’t gon’ hit a girl” The bully had warned, nursing a busted lip.

Cuphead had flown at him, eyes alight with fury, “good thing I ain’t a girl then!” And Mugman had tried to tug his brother back as he and the bully fought, wincing when Cuphead was hit in the face, leaving his nose bloody. They’d all heard Elder Kettle’s voice from beyond the thicket and the gang of boys had scarpered, not wanting to have their ears boxed for hurting a little girl.

And now Cuphead was crying harder, if that was possible, gasping between each heaving sob. “Cuphead you must stop playing rough with the boys. It’s high time you started acting your age and find other girls to play with. None of this climbing trees and getting mud on your dresses.” Elder Kettle’s voice had quietened a little but was no less stern and his walking stick tapped the wooden floorboards in a furious rhythm.

“But I’m not a girl!” Cuphead’s little voice rang out, full of anguish and desperation. “I’m not-I’m-” he pulled at the dress, sobbing harder as he fought with it, tugging it over his porcelain head. He threw it on the ground, shaking in his woolen vest and bloomers. “I’m not a-a girl” His words came out distorted between sobs. “I’m not, I’m not!” 

Cuphead fell to his knees and pressed his hands to the floor and then, to Mugman’s horror, began to bang his head on the wood. “I’m not a girl I’m not a girl I’m not a girl-” His words grew into a hushed mantra, repeated over with ragged breath. The porcelain clinked as though it would crack any moment and Elder Kettle tore himself from where he had frozen, kneeling next to the child.

Mugman felt his vision blur and realised he was crying himself. He crept over to where Elder Kettle had gently pulled Cuphead into his arms, hushing his brother as he continued to weep. He met Elder Kettle’s eyes and swallowed his nerves, hands drawing into fists at his sides for a little courage. “He’s a boy Elder Kettle Sir, ain’t no dress or lace goin’ to make him one never.”

Elder Kettle had looked a little lost, brow furrowed as he looked between them, and his gaze turned to the rumpled and stained frock on the floor. He sighed and stood, holding Cuphead close. “It’s late little ones, I think it’s best you both head to bed.” And few more words were said as they climbed the stairs and washed for bed, donning their striped blue pajamas and red and white nightdress respectively.

Elder Kettle kissed them each upon the rim of their cup as he tucked the in, his moustache tickling a little. Cuphead didn’t giggle like he usually did, fingers rolling the lace on the collar of his nightie gloomily. And Mugman kept his eyes on him as Elder Kettle flicked off the light, watching the tears shining in his brother’s bright eyes reflecting the light from the hallway.

The house was quiet for a while and there were sniffles and the rustle of fabric as Cuphead rolled over, facing away from him. Mugman stared up at the ceiling, watching the weak beams of light that travelled through their curtains from the lighthouse. He hoped Cuphead was going to be alright… and that Elder Kettle wouldn’t punish him too much. They’d never told him that Cuphead wanted to be a boy.

Mugman had known it for as long as he could remember though. Cuphead wore his shorts when they were alone. He liked playing marbles, tree climbing and wrestling. He’d ‘lost’ his cloth doll in the creek one day when Elder Kettle insisted he bring it. And Cuphead was fearless, more than any of the local boys. He’d played chicken on the train tracks and won too many times to count (though Mugman could hardly bare it and scolded him for it).

“Cuphead?” Mugman crept out of bed, tiptoeing to the edge of his brother’s. Cuphead mumbled indistinctly in response, shifting as Mugman lifted the covers and crawled under. He wrapped his arms around Cuphead and felt his brother soften, twisting to cuddle him back.

Downstairs the sewing machine began to whirr, the clicks and sound of the pedal so loud and fast it was like a steam train. Cuphead’s eyes mirrored his own confusion but it was late and warm and the clacking of the machine lulled them to sleep, as the distant sound of the trains in the town often did.

The sun was streaming in and the birds were happily chirping when he began to wake. Mugman kept his eyes closed, enjoying the softness of the pillow, not willing to get up just yet…

“Mugman!” Cuphead’s loud yell had him yelping himself, sitting up fast and blinking wide eyes with worry.

Cuphead was kneeling on the bed, tears in his eyes and a wobbly smile on his face. His brother was holding a pair of red shorts… identical to the blue that he typically wore. “I.. for me?” Cuphead whispered, hugging the garment close with a joyful bark of laughter.

There was a knock at the door and they turned to see Elder Kettle in the doorway, a gentle and fond smile under his moustache. “Good morning my lads, are you ready for breakfast?”

 

-fin-


End file.
